skin to skin
by makapedia
Summary: She is no passive summer rain - she's a mid-eve storm, and the clouds are about to break, thundering around them like the patter of stray shower on the plastic curtain.


She likes a little danger.

Danger, he thinks, like the rough brick beneath her palms as he fucks her from behind, in short, quick bursts as she hiccups her approval, despite the sound of damp footsteps on the sidewalk and the beeping of car horns only a few blocks away. Danger like his hand between her thighs at dinner, one finger caressing the silk of her panties as she struggles to maintain coherence in the face of his brother. She likes a little risk, and _he_ likes watching his prim meister lose herself, all around him, trembling and gasping as he works her just right, draws her pleasure out and she blinks through the fireworks.

Soul can handle a little danger. _Some risk_ is fine. Maka biting her lip as he sinks a single finger into her heat gets his blood burning like nothing else. Maka squeaking as Wes asks her what she thought about some obscure novel while Soul's thumbing her clit is nothing short of perfect.

A death wish is something else. Maka trying to mount him in the shower is where he draws the line.

But it's hard - both metaphorically and physically - to deny her advances when she's just so _darling_. Naked Maka is always a treat. Naked, _wet_ Maka is something out of his teenage fantasies. Suds slip down her slick skin in rosy trails, pooling around her feet in fragrant puddles as she grabs for his shoulders. Christ, his hands are magnetized to her hips, sleek beneath his grasp, as she stands tall on her toes and tries to swallow his doubts.

They really should not try to get it on in the shower. It's a molten, slippery deathtrap. Maka will slip and break her neck. _He_ will slip and crush her.

And yet her tongue is so fucking convincing. And distracting, hmm- she bites his lip and he squeezes her hips, slips his hands back to grip her ass and pull her against him. His dick slides deliciously along the bare, damp skin of her tummy and he breathes out through his nose at once, entirely too overstimulated to think clearly. The steam's clouding around her and god is she pretty, god is she perfect. God is she going to get the both of them killed someday.

"Mmh- Maka, hhnnh," he murmurs, unable to keep his mouth off of her for even a moment. He licks the shower spray from her cheek and she attaches herself to his neck like a barnacle. _Fuck._ "Not here, can we-"

"Sooooul," she whines and it rumbles through him, straight to his dick. "It's okay."

"It's not," he says, but his hands are still traitorously glued to her ass and he definitely feels a foot on the back of his calf. Bookworm's trying to climb him. Literally. And in another other instance, he might be tempted to let her mount him, might be tempted to stumble forward and drill her against the nearest available wall - but not the slick shower tile. For her safety - _and his own!_ \- he should probably put a stop to this.

 _Probably._

He steals a few more wet kisses and sucks to her jugular before hunching over grows tiresome. The aching in his neck is real, and Maka's still trying to scale him, palms slapping on his shoulders as she tries to foster a proper grip.

 _Focus, Soul._ "Get on the floor," he blurts.

Maka backs away just long enough to give him a _look._ His face heats almost instantaneously. "Oh," she says and flutters those faint lashes of hers. Her eyes are so big and he can't handle it. "Is that what you want?"

"That came out wrong," he sputters. It doesn't stop Maka from placing a kiss right over his heart, then dotting a few more along the shape of his scar. "Get on the floor and I'll get down there with you, and we-"

It's really hard to think when she's got his cock in her hand. She gives a little tug, watching his expression, brows crooked as he groans, low and throaty. Maka's got a firm grip, and he's helpless, helpless putty in her capable hands. She knows it, too; Soul likes the way she smiles at his reactions, likes the way she's so confident. Likes it probably a bit too much, because she's trying to begin her ascent again and it's not safe.

"Maka," he growls, footing slipping. He grasps for purchase on the shower curtain and the rings squeal in protest. "Maka, come on-"

"Floor? It's okay if we're on the floor, right?"

Her chest is distracting when she's panting. And blushing. And, hm, nipples are so cute. He sort of really wants one in his mouth, stat.

Soul nods numbly. Together, they clamber to the floor of the tub, shampoo bottles clattering as they tumble to the floor. The soap is slimey by his knee but Maka's beneath him, fingers in his hair, and at this angle it's much easier to kiss her. He's effectively working as her human umbrella, shielding her from the spray of the water, but he can't find it in him to care when there's so much bare skin to feel. There are freckles stippling their way down her nose, and he follows the path down to her right breast.

Those fingers winding in his hair tighten and pull. It draws the groan out of him almost primitively, and Soul doesn't even have time to be embarrassed over her control of him before he's got a nipple between his lips and Maka's head thumps back against the linoleum.

Much better than letting her climb. He can watch her this way, admire the proud curve of her spine beneath his palms as he leaves a love bite on the curve of her breast. With his head dipped down, the shower rains down and drenches her face, though, and she's squinting at him through the spray, lips pressed together - it's just not very good for anyone, and Soul crawls his way back up her body. Her eyes melt him to the bone as he slicks a finger between his lips. His forehead finds hers and his fingers make they way between her legs and ah, hm, it's warm and wet here, too.

"Water doesn't make for very good lubrication," Soul murmurs against her lips.

Maka whimpers as he caresses her damp heat, a single finger merely feeling, touching, memorizing. "But," she says, very clearly pouting. " _But."_

"Can still do some other stuff," he suggests, and then he sinks in, crooking his finger, allowing a shuddering gasp as she clenches around him, molten heat and flesh. Just the thought of being inside her, being allowed inside her - it gets him going like nothing else, and his finger isn't his dick but goddamn is it arousing to watch her lashes flutter as he reaches deeper and deeper within her.

Her nails dig into his shoulders now. Pinpricks of pain that keep him grounded, but he still growls through it, unable to keep himself from smothering his own embarrassing noises against her lips. She makes a pleased little hum in the back of her throat, kissing him wetly as he nudges her with a second finger, tentatively sinking into her yielding flesh. There are no howls of pain, and she's got her hands on his face, now, holding him there.

He kind of loves how high and girly her voice gets when she's close to coming. It's cute, and somehow so very Maka - so very simultaneously demanding and adorable, fingers clenching his jaw as she whimpers his name, hiccups her way around a moan as his thumb circles her clit. She is no passive summer rain - she's a mid-eve storm, and the clouds are about to break, thundering around them like the patter of stray shower on the plastic curtain.

"Come on, Maka," he mutters, and she bites his lip. " _Mmh-"_

She whines and wiggles her hips. It occurs to him, seconds later, that she's attempting to ride his fingers, and christ, she's always so demanding with her affections - but it's hot, and she's hot, and he really kind of wants to watch her come undone, so he slips his tongue between her lips and feels the way she rumbles beneath his touch.

There might be significantly less danger now that they're plastered to the shower floor, but it's still enough for Maka, and she comes with a strangled gasp. And yes. _Yesssss._

The steam's kind of suffocating. Soul tries to breathe in deeply but gets distracted by the water droplets in her lashes and the way they dampen her cheeks, the pinkness of her lips, the way her wet hair seems to make her hair a burnt gold.

Maka parts her lips and breathes in. Hornball Soul can't keep his mind out of the gutter, so he sits back, water long past hot - it's really kind of freezing on his back, and it's not good for boners at all. Ah, oh well. At least Maka has had her fun. The promise in her eyes tells him he'll be getting his later, anyway.

"Better, little perv?" he asks, grinning.

She blushes, but he's still too caught up in the way her wet tits look with a dark hickey to really tease her on her new, luminous coloring. "You too?"

"Eh," he says, shrugging idly, a pushes a hand through his damp, knotted hair. Christ, there's not enough conditioner in the work to solve the disaster Maka's hands have caused. "Too busy keeping you from breaking our necks. 'Ts fine."

She bites her lip. "But-"

Maintaining arousal in a cold shower is just happening. Soul cautiously spins, sitting on his ass in the shower, and pours a rather large glob of conditioner into his hands. Halfway through massaging his head, though, he feels small hands smoothing his hair back, and then Maka's fingers are nudging his, and Soul lets his head tip back as she helps rinse him.

There's a chaste kiss to his ear, and then, muttering lowly, Maka purrs, "After dinner?"

Yeah, he could go for dessert.


End file.
